


It's Over, Isn't It?

by Strega_VonDrachen



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, F/F, Steven Universe References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 04:25:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17573831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strega_VonDrachen/pseuds/Strega_VonDrachen
Summary: Regina discovers a certain cartoon favorite of Henry's, after he has moved away, and ends up identifying with a broken-hearted Pearl far more than she could have ever predicted.





	It's Over, Isn't It?

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr prompt from @siakb, courtesy of @shadowdianne, "Regina crying over Steven universe is like a head canon of mine." 
> 
> I adore Steven Universe, and it wasn't until I saw this prompt that I began to see the parallels. The angst just flowed after that. Sorry I'm not sorry. lol (Special thanks to @waknatious for beta reading and helping adjust my angst levels.) xoxo

Not since the days before Henry did her home at 108 Mifflin Street feel so empty. Even back then, in a visceral sense, the air inside had at least been filled with a purpose. Revenge, victory, control and power had all emanated around her, absorbing into the walls and enshrining her existence with a functioning semblance of satisfaction, even if it had been incomplete. Henry was gone now though, off to new adventures without her, leaving Regina in the mansion alone. **  
**

She did not resent him, not in the slightest. Her son needed to grow and find his own story. The last thing she would ever do was clip his wings when he needed most to fly. She was proud of her boy, and terribly so, but that did nothing to ease the pain of missing him.

Many had tried. Snow and David, though busy with their new farm and raising a rambunctious toddler, had made frequent calls and the occasional visit, feigning causality and not concern for her apparent loneliness. She didn’t want their pity, and they knew her well enough to avoid that, but they could also easily tell that Regina was spending far more energy humoring them than in actually being helped. And, so, the calls had diminished.

For a while, Regina had feared that they knew, that somehow they had figured out the secret of what had happened, but all evidence pointed to the contrary. They weren’t mad, or even disappointed, just busy and, ultimately, clueless. At the end of the day, that was all Regina really needed from them; continued ignorance, and the random friendly encounter from time to time.

Zelena, preferring the sanctity of her own privacy, had also moved out of the mansion, retreating back to her own home with baby Robin, but she still managed to keep up regular dates with Regina at Granny’s for lunch. She was far more inclined towards gossip and, though that was mildly entertaining, it hardly fulfilled Regina’s need for purpose. Occasionally, her sister would insist that Regina look after Robin for a weekend so that she could have, what she called, a “rare moment to rejuvenate.” Regina never refused the offer but knew that, like the Charmings, Zelena was simply trying to give her the chance to feel needed.

There was, after all, only so much work that a small town Mayor could do in a given week. And havoc-wrecking villains seemed to be in oddly short supply.  

It was for that reason that Regina continued to excuse Emma’s absence. The Savior just wasn’t required, and Regina tried to be grateful for that. Things were far simpler this way, and it helped her ignore the lingering guilt she carried for the true reason behind Emma’s avoidance.

Regina did not expect her attention. Newly married and now, seemingly, without conflict for the first time in a long while, Emma deserved to be able to enjoy her happiness uninterrupted. Of course, she still saw the Sheriff at the bi-weekly Town Hall meetings and they would nod at each other and sometimes chat idly, but then Emma would always be gone, back to her deputy at the station or to her husband at their home. That was the way of things. She always went back to him, and Hook was unavoidably always, always there with her. Regina supposed that was natural for newlyweds in love and never risked to question it. It was hardly her place to do so, anyway. Blame it on a genuine selflessness or perhaps the burden of shame and pride, but Regina would no sooner ask Emma to share her time than she would have demanded for Henry to stay at home.

That didn’t mean she missed her any less and, today, she was missing Emma almost as much as she did their son. In the settling silence of her home she could almost hear the echo of her heart breaking anew.

In an attempt to feel closer to Henry, Regina had been scrolling through his old Netflix queue, seeking out shows that he had found fascinating, and had stumbled upon a cartoon she did not recall. The premise for  _“Steven Universe”_ seemed adventurous enough for fans of comic-book heroes and yet silly enough to remain good lighthearted fun and, within a few hours of watching, Regina had found herself thoroughly immersed. She was pleased to know that such quality children’s programming still existed and that Henry had the good enough taste to enjoy such wholesome entertainment, even if it was littered with random points of song. Regina ended up spending the greater half of her day watching, diving headlong into episodes well beyond the ones Henry had viewed before, bingeing the show as if it were in danger of disappearing, not exactly sure why… until she had reached episode 8 of the third season, ironically the fully musical episode, entitled  _“Mr. Greg._ ”

Watching Henry’s favorite shows had actually been Emma’s idea, something that she had casually tossed up at Regina on that Friday after work as she and her husband were getting into her yellow bug. Emma had even offered to come over and watch with her. “We can have a Henry day,” she had said with a slight smile, unaware of Hook’s hesitating grimace. A bit stunned by the offer, Regina had politely declined, not wanting to upend whatever plans her husband had evidently prepared for their weekend, and really not wanting to know about them. It would have been the first time since the graduation trip with Henry that she and Emma would have spent more than a passing moment together, and it took some decent effort for Regina not to indulge in the fantasy that Emma was missing her just as much. The indifference to her refusal, shrugging and driving off without further ado, was all that Regina had needed to acutely know her place in her life. She was second, if not an afterthought, and she brooked no argument with that.

Regina had been the one to overstep the boundary. Emma had simply followed, led by the whiskey-fueled and sleep-deprived heat of the moment. What had happened was Regina’s fault, and she had adamantly refused to let Emma take any of the blame. They had not spoken of their night in the hotel since. It had been miracle enough that Henry had not noticed the awkward simmering tension between them on the car ride home. They had both silently agreed it was best to try and forget what had happened, for his sake as much as their own, and life carried on as if nothing had been broken.  

Regina could not, and would not, resent Emma for being happy without her. Hook, however, she could hate plenty, and she did. He was as good a reason for resentment as any. But she still kept it buried, hidden deep down, and never again made mention of how she believed Emma was still too good for the pirate. It was also his fault, in Regina’s mind, that Emma seemed so unfazed by Henry’s departure. After all, in or out of love, he had always proved a highly effective distraction for Emma. Not that Regina was wanting her to feel as alone as she did. Goodness, no. Regina didn’t wish this feeling on anyone. But, as ever, those feelings remained hopelessly complicated, and Regina couldn’t help herself from being just a little petty in return. It kept her from looking at things too closely and seeing truths she’d rather not face.

Darkness was falling outside when she finally ceased her cartoon marathon, having finished watching  _“Mr. Greg”_  several times over in a row. The songs were catchy, little earworms that burrowed in her mind and refused to let go, and Regina caught herself humming the melodies as she wandered into the kitchen for a glass of wine.

“You both love me and I love both of you…” she sighed, not really singing, but feeling the words with all hear heart, regardless. Henry and Steven were more alike than she could have ever guessed when the little cartoon boy had first introduced himself, stating quite proudly that “if every pork chop were perfect, we wouldn’t have hotdogs.” That, in retrospect, was such a Henry thing to say, even if it did stem more from Emma’s influence than her own. And, after nearly ninety episodes, Regina finally understood the wisdom of that sentiment, overlooking her distaste for hotdogs in the process. It was just like Snow had so often said, “Happy endings aren’t always what we think they will be.”

Well, from where she was standing, her hotdog of a life seemed a poor substitute for the pork chop she thought she might have had.

Regina felt a sort of kinship with Pearl, quietly angry at Greg for taking what had mattered most to her and yet unable to blame him. By this scenario, though, Hook clearly wasn’t Greg. If anyone, Emma was. And while Rose had been the one to break Pearl’s heart, Rose was also her own son, Steven, which only served to complicate matters and metaphors more. While that was appropo for the show, the parallels left Regina in a state of increasing confusion, approaching overwhelmed, with nothing much else left for her to do but drink and try to distance herself from her thoughts.

Aimlessly, she wandered with wine glass in hand to her living room, the minor keys of Pearl’s ballad caught in the back of her throat. The piano in the corner, seldom used but still tuned and well kept, beckoned at her to sit. In the years before Henry, Regina had taught herself how to play, albeit not very well. Her mother had always insisted no Queen should waste her time in pursuit of musical talent when there would always be servants to play for her instead.

At parties, in the rare instances when she actually hosted, Regina would enchant the instrument to play itself for her guests. Her mother had claimed it was beneath her daughter’s station for her to play before an audience, but Regina had still found the practice quite calming. Almost meditative. She placed her unfinished glass on top of the baby grand and brushed the fingers of her right hand along the ivories.

Carefully, humming the notes to herself, she plucked out the first few keys. “I was fine…” she sang, barely audible over the sound of the piano. “With the men… who would come into her life now and again.” She hit the wrong note, paused, and tried again. Her little finger kept missing the key, landing flat on the pitch. Her hand, she saw, was shaking.

It was all a lie. She wasn’t fine. She had never been fine. Not with this. Not with Emma.

She cleared her throat and worked her way through the melody, eventually finding the pattern and the accompanying chords.

“…after all those years, I never thought I’d lose.”

The song trembled out from behind her lips. She held still, fingers stiff against the piano keys, as tears began to sting the corners of her eyes.

“It’s… over, isn’t it?” Her fingers moved into the melody, sweeping through her grief, her voice failing as she cried. Her heart carried on with the words as she played.  _“You won, and she chose you, and she loved you, and she’s gone… It’s over, isn’t it? Why can’t I move on?”_

The answer was the simplest and most difficult of truths. She loved Emma. She loved her as dear as Henry. She was her family, her heart, and her deepest regret. She should never have kissed her, should never have touched her, should never have made love to her in that small, stupid, overpriced and overbooked hotel… No. She should have kissed her years ago, when she still had the chance, when Emma had still looked at her like she was the only person in the room rather than the only person she dreaded to see.

 _“Who am I now in this world without her? Petty and dull with the nerve to doubt her. What does it matter, it’s already done. Now–_ ” Her fingers tripped over the key change. She frowned, doubled back and exhaled, putting her quavering voice back into the song. “Now I’ve got to be there for her son…”

Henry was the heart they shared, and that would never change. But, without him, Regina didn’t believe she would be able to go on living this lie. It would either break out, or break her, and it was impossible to say which would happen first.

Tears were falling freely down the sides of her face, her hands moving fast along the piano, not caring an inch if she struck the wrong notes or not. She leaned into the song, playing louder and louder as if she could drive out and away the torment that plagued her. “You won, and she chose you! And she loved you! And she’s goooone…!” Her breath hitched, losing the belt of her note, scratching and breaking her voice. The final lines were off pitch and sour as her tears began to land on the keys. “…It’s over, isn’t it? Why… can’t… I… move on?”

Regina never watched the rest of  _“Steven Universe._ ” It was too painful, especially after she learned, though Zelena’s gossip, that Emma was pregnant. When the day came, soon thereafter, that Henry called for his family, needing their help, Regina dropped everything without a moment’s hesitation. She didn’t even pause to question Emma’s absence from the rescue until he was safely in her arms once more. Her boy. All grown up, and still needing her. Only then, in the stillness of the aftermath, did Regina understand that he had never stopped needing her and that her place would always be wherever he was. She was his heart as much as he was hers. And Emma… well. By the time she did arrive, blaming her pregnancy for her delay, Regina had already made up her mind to stay.

It was time for her to move on. Where that would be, Regina couldn’t possibly know, but by her son’s side was as good a place as any to start. Emma was on her own path. Perhaps, one day, they would meet again. Perhaps not. Perhaps, in some other time, in some other world, there would be a second chance for them both. Perhaps not. Regina had to let go of that hope. If Emma carried it for her then that was her prerogative. In the silence between them, nodding their farewells, Regina made her peace with the past and looked to the future. And she moved on with her story…

…unaware of the brand new exciting chapter that would arrive to greet her in nine months time, swaddled in Emma’s old baby blanket, with eyes just like her own.


End file.
